


The Very Secret Diary of Captain Jack Sparrow

by GloriaMundi



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Diary or Journal, Gen, Very Secret Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Co-written with poor_napoleon and ladymoonray. We would like to apologise to cassieclaire, the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien's ghost, Peter Jackson, Jerry Bruckheimer, Johnny Depp (arrrr), <i> The Fast Show</i>, and anyone who knows us.</p></blockquote>





	The Very Secret Diary of Captain Jack Sparrow

**Day 1**

Arrrr.

**Day 2**

Storm is finally over, after what seems like days at the wheel. (Gibbs says this is because I spent days at the wheel.) Too much cloud cover last night to determine current position. Sailing north with land to the east. Do not recognise coast -- not Florida anyway, as entirely devoid of chimp-like politicians and sparkling castles, and cannot think of other north-south coast between Port Royal and New Orleans.

Natives have lit beacons. Pretty! Clearly they have heard of Captain Jack Sparrow and the _Black Pearl_. And her fearsome pirate crew, of course.

Could be Portugal, if badly lost. Or Blackpool, if very badly lost.

Arrr.

**Day 3**

Cotton's parrot sighted smoke to north. Well, actually squawked "Where is the horse and his rider?", but Gibbs assures me that's what it meant. Several ships passed us, heading south under full sail: did not respond to signals, and they were my best ones too. Decided not to make chase as am still unsure of current position. Plus, there was more of them than me.

**Day 3, later:**

Arrr.

Smoke turns out to be from burning ships. Looks very pretty, but on balance, not good sign. Unclear whether burning ships due to enemy action, internal conflict or just careless powder monkey.

Huge armada assembled here at river delta. Most of larger ships (50 or so) have black sails; as usual, the _Black Pearl_ is inspiration to all. Inspiration does not go as far as raggedy sails with huge holes, but we gave that look up ourselves, due to lack of forward motion. Forward motion seems not to be problem with the ships, as despite ridiculous rigging they glide through water with greatest of ease.

Captain of nearest ship is signalling they wish to come aboard. No point in running as we are outnumbered, and probably outgunned, though have not seen much in way of cannon. Will break out the rum. Ages since last good party.

Decide "so why the re-enactment of the Spanish Armada?" may not be best opening conversational gambit.

**Day 3, still later:**

Interesting. This fleet hails from somewhere called Umbar. Never heard of it, and can't find it in _Mercator's New Atlas of World Conquest_, or _A-Z of Caribbean_, so is obviously local name for some perfectly ordinary place. Key West, perhaps. Or Morecambe (see Very Badly Lost possibility above).

Anyway, pirate armada call themselves corsairs, but am not fooled; they have black ships with black sails, crewed by ugly, overweight disfigured men with exotic accents. Perhaps 'Umbar' is actually Gateshead. Anyway, 'corsair' is only nancy-boy word for 'pirate'.

Pirates heading upriver to sack some city called Minas something. Cannot find this on the map either. (Memo to self: ask to copy their charts.) Have said we will join them, as long as we get an equal share of any loot, plus expenses. Will have Gibbs forge receipts.

Captain and his First Mate claimed they have never heard of me. Clearly new to pirate game (hence 'corsair'). Offered them rum in preparation for educational story-telling session, but they started drinking toasts to someone they call the Dark Lord. Pirates so sordid sometimes, all that necromancy and virgin sacrifice. Can think of better things to do with virgins. Do so, for ten minutes.

I'll get me coat.

**Day 4:**

Hmph. Always suspected crew were weasel-gutted cowards but did not expect to be proved right so comprehensively. They have deserted, every one of 'em, just because a ghost army turned up and swarmed over the ship. You'd think they'd never seen the walking dead before. And this lot are much prettier than Barbossa's mob. In or out of moonlight.

Bastards.

Rest of fleet similarly affected. Fat pirates leaping overboard, marooning selves on delta islets, screaming, drowning, etc. Am Captain Jack Sparrow. Not scared of ghosts. Not going _anywhere_.

Am also pissed and incapable of walking, but that's _not the point_!

At least do not have to share the Rum any more.

**Day 4, later:**

May have spoken too soon. Load of ruffians calling themselves Dunne-ed-dane (spelling?) turn up, along with a blond pretty-boy and a dwarf.

Allegedly they are with the army of Dead and are off to Minas Thing to save it from raiders and orcs and black-hearted scoundrels. Quite what killer whales are doing teaming up with scoundrels not quite clear, as is threat they pose to Minas Thing. Dunne-ed-dane spread out one per ship to free slaves (have never held with using slaves to man oars myself) and make ships ready.

As _Black Pearl_ is clearly jewel (hahahah) of fleet, chief of Dunne-ed-dane has chosen it as flagship. He came aboard with pretty boy and dwarf but was put out to find me here.

Am off to Minas Thing to save it, says he.

Not on my ship you aren't, says I. Arrrrr.

Why not? says pretty boy, looking at me with superior look.

For one (says I) I spent ten years without the _Pearl_ an' I'm not giving her up again for anything.

Dunne-ed-dane chief tells me he respects my patience and fidelity. In light of this revelation, decide to skip point 2, which is that as a black-hearted scoundrel myself, cannot see way to helping forces of law and order.

Dunne-ed-dane chief turns out to be Isildur's Heir: eventually understood he wasn't Isildur's Hair (what _is_ that accent?), but have never heard of Isildur, let alone Heir (or Hair). Am, however, too polite to say so.

Pretty boy tells me he is Elf, from realm of Fairy. Reacts badly to being asked where his wings are, then. Points to ears as evidence, but have seen pointier ears on a bo'sun from Swansea. Something very familiar about him, but can't quite put finger on it. Not while he's watching, anyway. Dwarf tells me he is a Dwarf. This so blatantly obvious, do not bother to comment. He and pretty boy clearly good mates; is not natural.

We drink to Destiny. Isildur's Heir starts on about the Dark Lord, who is called Sow-Ron and lives in Morrdorr and is a Bad Thing. In return, tell him about myself, Aztec curse etc. Isildur's Heir not much interested, but neither was I. Sadly they are all too busy to stay long. The Dwarf is seasick, even though we are still at anchor. Bad sign.

In better news, Dead sent away by Isildur's Heir. Good news for me., and for Dead, who were clearly bored and reduced to pulling each other's shinbones off.

Arrr.

**Day 5**

No wind to speak of, so 'tis all hands to the oars for the haul upriver to Minas Thing. This a bit embarrassing, as not enough Dunne-ed-dane to man _Black Pearl_'s sweeps, so have to put rope round nearest Dunne-ed-dane ship. Am Captain so do not row, but stood at helm and attempted to keep course and dignity.

Which was nice.

We did try to get corsair boats to glide through water with no visible means of propulsion, but after being reduced to standing on deck and shouting "go!" we gave up.

Name of Isildur's Heir is Aragorn -- sounds Spanish to me, and therefore not to be trusted. Though they do make good quality paella. From what Aragorn was saying to pretty boy and dwarf, this Sow-Ron is more like Old Hob than your regular black-hearted scallywag. Feel sure that Minas Thing will be more prosperous, e.g. better pickings, under Isildur's Heir. Bugger, seem to be finding myself on side of good again.

Showed cannon off to Aragorn, pretty boy and dwarf. "Evil Eyesenguard magic!" they said, and buggered off. Have no idea what they meant. Probably not impressed by (accidental) sinking of Dunne-ed-dane ship.

Still need charts. Pretty boy (Leggolass -- what sort of a name is that?) drew rough map but do not recognise coastline, ports or landmarks, and object to omission of "Here be Monsters". Said so to Leggolass, who implied this was due to excess of Rum. Have realized that familiar look is because for some reason he reminds me of Will. (Bloody Will.) Must be superior attitude. Hmm, wonder if he puts out?

Offered to show him how to apply kohl, but he declined. Am destined to remain the prettiest.

Gimli (dwarf) still seasick. Keeps on about needing earth under his feet. Just as well he is too short to man an oar effectively.

**Day 6**

Today, we have been mostly eating _lembas_.

A wind at last! Strong westerly breeze rose before dawn: set all sail and cracked on, setting fine example to rest of fleet who are lagging somewhere behind, and looking pretty damn silly, frankly (except one we were tied to, now towed behind in our wake). Isildur's Heir is keen to reach Minas Thing by noon at the latest as it is under attack by land forces.

Am reconsidering goals of voyage. Apparently Aragorn is long-lost descendant of Kings of Gondor (where Gondor? Not in Mercator. Or A-Z). Oh bloody hell! He's a King. Captain Jack Sparrow does not repeat not fight for King and Country! Where's the profit in reinstating some poncy hereditary monarchy and allowing triumph of tyrannical forces and feudal values?

Offered to braid Leggolass' hair while we sailed, by way of distracting him from imminent battle and unseemly bloodshed, but Isildur's Heir growled at me in most unkingly fashion. Hmm, wonder if _he_ puts out.

Instead, watched attentively as pretty boy sprang aloft to furl sails. Very agile and lithe, and has taken to life on the ocean wave with remarkable aptitude. Will offer him place on crew, as cannot sail _Black Pearl_ by myself and have appointment with Will in New Orleans. Also, he has nice legs which look good in tights.

Do not care if Isildur's Heir approves or not. Am Captain Jack Sparrow. Am not answerable to agents of tyranny.

Redid kohl and beard. Dwarf has been eyeing braids with enthusiasm: wants to know why there is no gold amongst trinkets. (Spent it all on Rum.)

Have decided will sit out forthcoming battle locked in cabin with as much Rum as possible. Will invite Leggolass to join me, and see if he'll wear the red dress.

Suits me, sir.

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with poor_napoleon and ladymoonray. We would like to apologise to cassieclaire, the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien's ghost, Peter Jackson, Jerry Bruckheimer, Johnny Depp (arrrr), _ The Fast Show_, and anyone who knows us.


End file.
